


Apocalypse Radio

by mirandamyth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderswap, Winsister, Zombies, actually some femslash in here, but only Dean, girl!Dean, jsyk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 17,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirandamyth/pseuds/mirandamyth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Deane and Sam grow up with John and Mary, the doomsday preppers with a radio station. They think their parents are a little nuts, until the croatoan virus breaks out. John's lost in the first year of the break out, but Mary and her kids fought through, establishing a safe zone and gathering survivors. De happens upon an unconscious stranger in a wreck, and her life gets interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I own nothing but the plot. Also, I do not live in, nor have I been to Kansas. And google maps tells me I have written myself a little cockeyed, as far as the locations I use. Think of it kind of like Fitzgerald's East and West Egg, if you are from/have been to Kansas. Somewhere between Lawrence and Baldwin City, close enough to Douglas Lake to use it as a reservoir. Rural community, imaginary town. (I changed the first chapter to make it close to geographically possible)

It was nearing mid afternoon, and De was heading back to the station, saddlebags full of ammunition. The sky was clear, and the sun was beating down hot on her neck as she made her way through the country roads she knew so well. She figured she was about thirty miles out from the station, and knew there was nothing but open road ahead of her, and her baby roaring between her thighs. She opens her up, flying down the asphalt line cutting the overgrown cornfields apart. It's only about ten miles she can maintain at this pace, before she finds herself slamming to a stop. A red station wagon is pulled halfway off the road, nearly in the ditch, the front passenger's side tire is in shreds along the side of the road, the smell of hot rubber still thick in the air. De parks her bike and climbs off, swinging the assault rifle from her back into firing position. She approaches the car at a steady pace, hand ready on the grip of her weapon, eyes darting around to her blind spots. She sees the boulder lodged in the front undercarriage first, the man passed out on the deflating airbag second.

She picks up her pace, jogging over to the car. She taps the end of her rifle on the driver's window several times before trying the door handle. It's unlocked. She checks the car for blood, any sign that something is amiss. There's none but that coming from the man's nose, and the splashes on his shirt where it had dripped off his swollen upper lip. Deane tries to pull him from the vehicle, but the bastard had buckled his seatbelt. With a glance around for trouble, De flips her gun over her shoulder, and reaches for her walkie.

"Tiger to Moose, do you read me? Over."

"Yeah, De, I'm here." Sam's voice crackles over the walkie.

"Damn it Sammy, you're supposed to say; 'Loud and clear Tiger, go ahead. Over.'"

Sam sighs, "Loud and clear Tiger, go ahead. Over."

"We got a situation about twenty miles west of the Nest, out near the Sheriff's old place. Over."

"What kind of situation? Over."

"Wagon with a blowout, unconscious driver, maybe 200 pounds of supplies. Send Dracula and the Jeep. Over."

"Will do, what's your plan? Over."

"Tell Dracula I'll be here when he gets here. Gotta make sure this guy doesn't pass out in his own vomit. Over."

"De, be careful."

"Yeah, yeah, Sammy, see you in an hour. Over and out."

Though she can't see any danger, her daddy always said that just because you can't see it doesn't mean it ain't there. She takes shelter in the only available space - the backseat of the wagon. She had to sit with her legs up on the seat, the guy had jammed so much into the car. To kill time she takes inventory, it looks like this guy raided a hospital between here and Longmont, Colorado (according to the registration in the glove compartment). There are boxes of gauze and tape littering the floor of the back seat, a large box of pharmacy bottles of pills; everything from blood pressure pills to morphine, and boxes of little insulin bottles beneath. She also found four boxes of MREs, enough to feed their whole camp for two months. In the passenger's seat was a loaded handgun, four boxes of ammo, a ten gallon jug of water, as well as one half full of what looked like apple juice, but De was pretty sure was piss. She sure as hell wasn't gonna drink it. There were three large black cases that De was sure held weapons, and one that was definitely a guitar.

It's only about fifteen minutes before De can see the Jeep, so maybe they're closer to home than she thought. When the green ragtop pulls to a stop Benny's not alone. Jo hops out of the passenger's side and starts unstrapping provisions from the roof of the wagon. As Benny makes his way around to the driver's door, De unfolds herself from the backseat. She heads around to help Jo with the supplies, and the three of them work in silence to pack the contents of the wagon into the back of the Wrangler. Once Benny's got Mr. Comatose seated, there's no room left for Jo in the Jeep.

Deane turns and tosses Jo the helmet, "Looks like we're riding together, so you better hold on tight."

De climbs on her bike, laughing at the terrified look on the smaller girl's face. Once Jo's on she smiles wickedly, "'Cause we better beat Benny's sorry ass home."

After a terrifying ten minutes, Jo breathes a sigh of relief that De has to slow down when they turn onto the packed dirt road leading to the west gate. They stop in front of it to wait for Benny. Jo takes the opportunity to hop off and fish the key from her pocket, reaching for the knife in her holster as she jogs toward the gate. De's got her rifle in hand, but stays planted on her bike, until they hear the rumble of an engine coming after them; Jo pulls open the gate as soon as the Jeep is in sight. De follows Benny through and Jo closes the gate behind them, opting to walk the half mile back to camp.

De pulls next to Benny and hollers, "Drop him and his medical supplies with Missouri, I'll meet you at the station to sort through the rest." Benny nods at her, and they part ways, Benny heading south to Missouri's, Deane east to the station.

The station is how this all started, and it's one of the few residences in camp with power. It was once a church, but had been converted into a radio station by De's mom in the early eighties. Since then, Mary had Deane, Sam, and John prepping for doomsday. They turned what was once a medium sized brick church into a fortress. The radio controls were in the attic, they live in the offices, the main room is used as a meeting hall, and the basement for a mess hall. Bobby Singer, their weapons and inventory manager, lived in what was once the preschool addition with Jo and her mother, Ellen. De parked her bike in front of the station, unlatched her saddlebags from the bike, and headed in to see Bobby.

"Hey, old man! I brought you ammo!" She calls out brightly.

"Yeah, well keep your hat on, idjit. It ain't that exciting." Bobby replies, wheeling his way out of the back room. "Where's Jo and Benny?"

"Oh, you know Joanna's scared of my driving, so she decided to hoof it as soon as we got in the west gate. Benny is delivering our mystery guest to Missouri, see if she and Pam can get him fixed up." De drops the saddlebags on the floor and starts sorting the boxes by amount and type of bullet. "He'll be here  soon, with a boat load. That kid I found wasn't fucking around."

"How do you mean?" Bobby asks, counting the number of .22 rounds De managed to bring in.

"I mean, the kid was carrying a pharmacy and, like, a year's worth of food with him. He's running to or from somewhere."

"Well, Missouri and Pamela'll be able to figure what he's about. You go on, show your Momma you got in safe."

"She in the station?"

Bobby grunts affirmatively, stacking boxes of .45 rounds behind his counter. De heads out, running up the stairs to the small apartment she shares with Sammy and her mother. She pauses for a moment at the picture of John Winchester on the wall, remembering the day after the croats broke out, remembering the feeling of her dad's hand around her neck, the butcher's knife held in the other as he drags it along her collar bone. Remembers the arrow coming so close to infecting her after piercing through her father's chest. Remembers burying him just inside the fence they put up that night. Back when it was just Jo and Ellen and Bobby around to help. Before they had amassed the remainder of survivors in town. Before the compound was a shanty town. She's had five years to move on, and yet she can't. All their work, all the preparations they'd made for whatever might happen and her dad still died, still got infected. Deane shook her head to clear it and moved on. There was no use crying in the apocalypse, after all. She climbed the stairs to the control room, and listened to her mom in the booth. 

"So, as many of you may know, we have a new person here with us now. Send your good thoughts to whatever diety you believe in for our new friend. Additionally, we've gotten in more insulin, any diabetics running low, see Missouri before you run out. Now, that's all I've got for news, folks, but enjoy some Sinatra." Mary turns her mic off and queues up a few classics before leaving the booth to talk to her daughter.

"De, I hear you brought in quite the haul today."

"Well, mostly that guy did, I just found him."

"You did good, baby. You saved someone. You called for help, instead of trying to do it yourself." Mary smiles and runs her hand over her daughter's hair, "I'm proud of you, and your daddy would be too."

De shrugs off the compliment, "Where's Sammy?"

Mary raises her eyebrows, "Where do you think? Jessica Moore's."

De rolls her eyes and hugs her mom. "I'm gonna head out."

"Go, go, my ten minutes are almost up." Mary says, heading towards her booth, "But you and Jo have tomorrow morning on the radio, remember."

De climbed back down the ladder and makes her way out of the curch, only to see Jo and Benny making out against the Jeep. She considers heckling them, but decides against it, taking her bike instead to go see about this newcomer.

Pam's outside smoking when she gets there. "Your boy's awake, looks like the steering wheel broke his nose. He wants to see you." She passes her smoke to De, who takes a long drag, and coughs it back out. Pam's home rolls always have a little weed in them, but this one had more than usual. 

"Son of a bitch," De chokes out, passing it back, "is there any tobacco in there, Pam?"

Pam smiles deviously, "Some. Now go see the patient, we can dicuss where you're sleeping tonight when you finish in there." Pam sends her off with a pat to the ass and a wink. 

De walks into Missouri's kitchen to see her mystery man nursing a cup of coffee. He stands as she enters and holds out his hand "I'm Castiel, I believe you saved my life."

And from that moment, De was lost.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well fuck, I guess there's another chapter in here. Please bear in mind that I am writing and posting this as I go, so if I switch tenses, or you catch something I screwed up, let me know.

De takes the proffered hand and shakes, "De-Deane Winchester. And maybe not your life, just your supplies. We got a few vulture groups roaming around who'd've picked you dry and left you for the croats. Even though technically we took your supplies too..." De cuts herself off, realizing she'd been rambling. She can feel Castiel's eyes boring into her, but it's not the usual stare she receives from men. Instead of lecherous, his gaze is curious and makes her feel vulnerable and exposed in ways others' haven't. She doesn't feel naked as she so often does when men let their eyes linger too long on her (not unsubstantial) breasts or ass, she doesn't feel angry like when one of the vultures size her up like an appetizing morsel; she feels raw and open, like Castiel is watching all her nerve endings light up, like he sees through her to what holds her together, all the way down to her soul.

 

De doesn't know how long they've been standing there, before Missouri clears her throat. At the interruption, De realizes that they've been standing, staring, hands still joined over the table for far longer than is socially acceptable. She pulls her hand away and smiles at Missouri, "Any chance there's more of the coffee Cas here is drinkin' ?"

 

"You ain't injured, sweetheart. You know where it's at." Missouri scolds her, taking a seat next to Cas, "Bring this old lady a cup too, cream and sugar. Hurry back, this boy's got something to say you wanna hear, and my ankles say there's a storm coming in."

 

De heads to the coffee pot and makes their cups, grabbing a third for Pamela when she hears the slam of Missouri's screen door. She adds sugar to two of them, and cream til Missouri's is a lovely light brown. She takes her seat next to Pam, and sips at the bitter black coffee she's brought for herself. Pam tries hers and smiles, De can feel fingertips teasing along her inseam, and she's probably _not_ sleeping at the station tonight. De smirks and turns her attention to the newcomer. "So, what's this I've gotta hear?"

"Go on, now, sweetie, tell her what you told me."

Cas sits up a little straighter, "My brother created the virus." De feels Pam's fingernails dig into her thigh, " _And_?"

"And I think there's a cure. I have his notes, if you brought all my things, there might be a cure in there. At least there's the diseases he started from."

"So that's why you're carrying a pharmacy with you? To cure who you can? What are you, some kind of vagabond miracle worker?"

"No."

" _No?"_ De asked, incredulous. "Then what the hell's going on?"

"I am no scientist, Deane Winchester. I am here to save you."

"Well, in case you didn't notice, I'm not the one who needed saving." And with that, De left, Pamela's hand sliding from her leg as she stood.

 

Her first step outside was marked with fat raindrops finally beginning litter the air. She'd barely made it to her bike when the screen door slammed shut once again.

 

"Deane." Cas's call is flanked by lightning and a sharp crack of thunder. It makes him seem ethereal, an agent of fate, instead of the unlucky fucker he was.

"Don't worry, Cas, I don't think the rain is gonna pose me a threat." Deane climbs on her bike, but Cas is still standing there, head tilted to the left, a puzzled look on his face. 

"So you can go on back inside." De doesn't look in his direction before leaving.

 

She can't go home. She can't talk to her mom about what he said. Mary will know, Mary  _does_ know. She knows the only reason Sammy doesn't still have his dad is De. That he only got infected trying to save Deane from a croat, that the blood that infected him came from where she'd clipped her attacker. Her mom knows where her independent streak comes from, and will only make her talk about it. Her mom was all about talking, Sam too, and there was no way De could get out of it at the station. So she goes somewhere safe. After a stop in Ellen's saloon to grab a bottle, she retreats up to Pam's loft. Toeing off her boots, she drops her leather jacket over the railing to dry, and pulls her hair loose from it's ponytail. Taking her Jim Beam with her, she pads over to Pam's bed, lighting candles as she finds them. She lets herself fall onto Pamela's plush mattress, pulling her bra off before twisting the cap off and taking a large sip.

 

In the half hour it takes for Pam to arrive, De's a quarter of the way into her booze. Pam comes in soaking wet, and starts stripping off wet clothes. She drops her jeans first, followed by a red flannel that De's about ninety-seven percent sure is hers. Pam turns to look at De, wearing nothing but her tied-off Ramones t-shirt and black boyshorts, and raises an eyebrow, "Enjoying the show?"

"Well, sweetheart, I was hoping it could be a little more interactive, if you know what I mean." De replies with a wink.

Pam saunters her way over to the bed and pulls the bottle from De's hands, taking down a quarter of what's left in one go. "I can work with that."

Setting the bottle on her night stand, Pam moves to straddle De, hands slipping down to the button on her jeans. De's thumbs hook in the band of Pam's underwear, and she cups her ass. Pam thumbs open the button and moves to lower the zipper, catching De's lips for a kiss. De inches her hands up Pam's shirt as a tounge slides into her mouth.  Jeans are sliding down her hips and Pamela's pushing her back. Pam inches her way down De's neck, paying extra attention to the sensitive spot behind her jaw. De grips tight on the sides of Pam's shirt, and it's on its way off when her mouth meets De's collarbone. Sitting up, Pam pulls the shirt over her head, followed by Deane's. She picks up where she left off, trailing her way down De's torso, pulling a nipple into her mouth and sucking for a moment while her hand works over the ever-growing wet spot in De's satin panties. She licks a stripe down from there to her navel, and presses a hickey next to Deane's bellybutton. 

She moves lower, "Pink satin, De? these are a little girly for you, aren't they?"

Deane groans, "Really Pam, can we talk about my choices in underwear when I'm putting them back on?" Pam hitches her fingers up, rubbing De through the satin. De gasps, "O-okay, I wear girly underwear! Now fuck, Pam, can you stop teasing me?"

Pam smiles up at De, and runs her tounge along the band, working her hand more vigorously. De fists a hand in Pam's dark hair and begs, "Please, Pammy-" she's inturrupted by Pam's teeth pulling on the elastic, inching the satin down to where her jeans are stuck at her knees. Pam takes her time pulling each leg out, leaving De to stew in her anticipation. De is panting, watching Pamela suck hickeys into her thighs, before pushing her knees up and going to work. In moments, De's gripping the sheet below her with one hand, and Pam's hair with the other. As she's gearing toward orgasm, thunder crashes, and her stranger from that day pops in her head, the stare he'd fixed her with, and she's coming, a scream ripping out of her throat. 

Coming down as Pam slides back up to catch another kiss, De distracts herself from analyzing it, flipping Pam over to repay the favor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some fem slash happened. not really sure how, but, oh well...


	3. Chapter 3

Deane wakes up to the abscence of drumming rain. There's a warm weight on her stomach, and black hair covering her chest. The sky outside is faintly grey, pinks lighting close to the horizon. De groans. She's got maybe fifteen minutes before she has to be back at the station. She slips a hand under Pam's head, and gently slides out from under her, pulling a pillow down to take her place. She manages to find her jeans and bra, but steals clean socks and a tee shirt from Pam. She pulls on her jacket and grabs her boots before making her way down the stairs, careful not to wake Pam. Outside, she pulls on her boots and assesses the road, checking for large puddles or patches of too-soft ground. The road isn't dry enough to take her bike, but she isn't too far from home. She takes the third of a mile home at a slight  jog, trying to remember who had the last shift. When she stops in front of the station, Jo's already there, unlocking the door, messenger bag slung over her shoulder. They head up in silence, aware of Sam and Mary sleeping.

Once in the control room, they find Garth signing off, "The lovely ladies of your morning rock block are here, this is Garth reminding you to brush your teeth, and as always to keep it here for the latest news. I'll talk to y'all again tomorrow night." He puts on some Bob Dylan and makes his way out of the booth. "Well, ladies, I'm gonna get some sleep." He yawns, "Have fun."

 

They're an hour and a half in when Jo breaks the bag open. She tosses De a pack of cigarettes in the middle of an ACDC song, "Your boy definitely came prepared. He brought twenty cartons of cigarettes,  _Marlboros._ " 

This is truly amazing - De can't remember the last time she saw Marlboro cigarettes. And now she's got twenty of them in her hand. "Well," she says, pulling out Rufus' ashtray, "can't let 'em go to waste, now can we?" She packs them against her hand while announcing the next song. She lights one to the opening chords of Asia. She tosses the pack to Jo, and makes a decision. "Let's let the rest of the record play, I got some shit to tell you." 

Jo takes a long inhale, the cherry of her cigarette flaring vibrant orange. "Lay it on me, De."

"Well, the guy I found? He says his name is Cas-something, and he's here to save me, apparently." De sighs, "Me, specifically."

"Okay, that's fucking strange."

"Not even all. His brother apparently developed the Croatoan virus. And he thinks he's got what someone might need to find a cure."

Jo whistles, "Holy shit. Who else knows about this?"

"Just you, Missouri, and Pam. I haven't had time to tell anyone else." 

"You gonna tell your mom?"

De's saved from answering by the end of the A side. "Well, girls and boys, it looks like it's time for an update. Breakfast is being served in the mess hall for another hour. We have in at the commissary this week: .22 and .45 caliber bullets, MREs and cigarettes. It's gonna be a clear day, so outings can be OK'ed and supplied by Bobby. Remember to leave the safety on unless danger is present, we don't need anyone blowing their own ass off." De pauses, "You're listening to Apocalypse radio, broadcasting at four different frequencies. If you're tuning in on the road, we take requests on CB channel 6."

Jo flips Bob Dylan onto the turntable, Subterranean Homesick Blues playing out into the morning. "I'm gonna go get some coffee, you want anything?"

De's eyes shoot up "Anything they have. And coffee."

Jo rolls her eyes, but heads out of the booth. De lets her mind linger on whether or not to tell her mom that there might possibly, by some miracle, be a cure. Her mom had a hard enough time accepting that the people weren't people anymore, that they weren't sick, they were monsters. But to ask her to now realize that every person they killed could have been saved. That John could have been saved. Better to wait, she decides. Better to see if there is one, before causing a fuss. 


	4. Chapter 4

It's nearing noon, and the booth is in a state of post-show chaos. The small room is hazy with smoke, breakfast dishes and coffee cups still sitting on the desk, and littered with paper footballs. They're basically killing time till Benny gets there to take over. As much as De likes Benny, she is eternally glad she's not on air with him. Benny moved from Louisiana six months before the world went to shit, and his taste ran from bluegrass to ZZ Top. De can only half stand his show. It's a lot of bluegrass and banjo picking, with southern rock thrown in, and Benny won't even listen to her suggest he play some Creedence Clearwater Revival without grumbling about California posers. She closes out their show with _Born on the Bayou_ , just to piss him off.

John Fogerty is crooning about rolling with a Cajun Queen when Benny raps on the window of the booth. De stands and stretches as Jo greets Benny, which apparently involves a lot of tounge. She collects the dishes before leaving the booth. Jo and Benny detach themselves when the door closes behind her.

"Don't you know these boys grew up in San Francisco? They wasn't born on any bayou I ever heard of."

De shrugs, "But they know how to rock. Where's Rufus?"

"Bullshitting with Bobby, so I give him half an hour, at least."

"Right, well, I'll see you around, man. I'm starving, and I still gotta get my bike from Pam's." De turns her back on their knowing smirks, heading down through the building to the mess hall.

She heads through to the kitchen and stacks the plates and cups with the meagre beginnings of lunch dishes. No one dines exclusively in Mess or at the Roadhouse, but Ellen tends to prepare about seventy percent of meals in camp. Mary, Jody, and Ellen serve hot breakfasts and light lunches in Mess; Ellen opens the Roadhouse at seven for dinner and serves drinks until one. Mess is more of a hang out, used for book clubs, card games, and other functions between meals. It's cooled in the summer, heated in the winter, and lighted after dark.

De sees Jody building cold cuts and makes a beeline for her station, "Hey, Sherriff, any chance you can make an Italian with jalapeño?" She breaks out her brightest smile, "Pretty please?"

Jody sighs dramatically, but pulls an already made foot long from the tray she'd been loading. "Benny's on the radio, and your stomach is a bottomless pit."

De laughs, and claps her on the back. "You're the best Jody. You need me to look out for anything on my run today?"

"Conditioner," Jody replies without hesitation, "something that smells good, and some red lipstick?"

"Sure thing, Sherriff." De gives her a two finger salute.

"Get the hell outta my kitchen, De." Jody chuckles.

De heads out into Mess, where she spots Sam sitting with Jess in the middle of a game of chess with Kevin Tran. The dorks are so focused on the game, they don't even notice De taking a seat beside Jess.

"How long has this been going on?" De asks, taking the first bite of her sub.

Jess looks up from her book, "Way too long. I'm just glad we're reading something with a little weight this week. It only took me, like, three hours to read Fight Club last week." 

De rolls her eyes, but lets Jess get back to her book. In the fifteen minutes it takes her to finish the sub, Kevin captures one of Sam's Rooks, and manages to check him. Jess looks up hopefully, but Sam easily escapes the defeat, taking a Knight from Kevin. De stands and wipes her hands.

"Well, I'm going on a run, you need anything, Samantha?"

Sam looks up, irritation etched into his features. "Batteries and books." 

"What's the magic wo-ord?" De sing-songs.

"Please." Sam says begrudgingly, and De ruffles his hair.

"You got it, Kid." She looks to Kevin and Jess, "You guys?"

"Water guns," Kevin is the first to respond, "or at least balloons."

Jess is less frivolous, "Missouri's real low on allergy medication, I saw when I picked some up this morning."

"Got it. Water guns and Claritin. Catch you guys when I get back."

De makes her way to Pam's relieved to see that the camp roads have dried in the midwestern heat. She takes the walk back at a more leisurely pace, and hopes that Pam wasn't needed at Missouri's today. She loses herself in fantasy as she makes her way down the road, feet carrying her on auto pilot to her destination. 

The brunette she's greeted with, however, is not the one she was hoping for. Cas is sitting in Pam's adirondack smoking a cigarette.

"Missouri told me I might be able to find you here after you were done with the radio."

"Did she?" De asks, annoyed, "Well ain't it my lucky day?"

Cas squints at her, and he's getting a little too close to _the look_ for De's comfort.

"Look, buddy, as much as I'd love to stand here and let you stare at me, I got a run to make." De buckles her helmet losely under her chin and swings a leg over her baby.

"I'll assist you." Cas stands and makes towards her bike.

"Woah there, cowboy, I don't  _need_ your help."

"I know you are perfectly capable, Deane, but I would like to accompany you."

"Fine. But don't get yourself killed." She throws a helmet at him, "Hop on."

She feels his hand on her shoulder and his weight settling behind her. 

What she's not expecting is the deep growl in her ear, "May I?"

His hands are hovering over her hips, and she nods, mouth dry. They're warm against her abdomen, and her body clearly remembers last night's surprise, because she can feel the heat in her cheeks, and one stirring in her gut. She peels out of Pam's fast enough for those hands to tighten once instinctively, and she's glad it's not far, because she should not be driving her bike like this. 

She pulls into the garage behind the station and cuts the engine. Cas climbs off and she follows, resting her helmet on the seat. She heads in without a word to Cas, making her way through the storeroom to the commissary area. Cas follows her just as wordlessly.

Bobby's cleaning a shotgun when they find him. "Hey Bobby, I'm going out on a run, taking Cas here with me. We still got walkies?"

"Yeah, I have a few left." He turns to Cas, "I don't believe we've been introduced, Bobby Singer."

"Castiel Novak." 

"Good to meet ya. Now, De, Issac and Tamara called in an hour ago, said Gordon and his group have been hanging around."

"Awesome." De says with a sigh. Gordon and his pack of vultures are convinced the virus is some kind of devine intervention; they spout a lot of idealisms about retribution and atonement. They're less dangerous than, say, Crowley's gang, and less bloodthirsty than Dick Roman's, but they're still trouble; reckless and delusional, they can easily get someone killed. "No sign of Dick or Crowley?"

"Victor said he saw Roman's caravan heading towards Kansas City, there are a few settlements out there he can terrorize. I haven't heard anything on Crowley, but take some MREs if you want to, you know he's always willing to make a trade."

De straps a .9mm to her thigh, an assault rifle to her back, and a machete to her hip. Cas hunts through the weapons until he finds one of his black cases. He pulls a sword from it, and accepts the gun Bobby offers.

"What car is ready to go?"

"The Impala's gassed up, Rufus just changed the oil yesterday." Bobby pulls the keyring from his shirt pocket. "Unless you want something else?"

De snatches the keyring and rolls her eyes, "As if, old man."

Bobby snorts a laugh as De makes her way back to the garage, Cas hot on her heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's curious, in this AU, Deane's "Baby" is a 1964 Triumph Tiger but with off-road/all terrain tires. In my head canon for this, Deane built her bike with her dad along with rebuilding engines for most of the vehicles now in camp as part of the apocalypse prepping.
> 
> Bonus points if somebody knows what celebrity had that bike.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard for me to get out, so it's short and prose intensive, sorry!

De can feel his eyes, he's silently alternating between watching her drive and reading the few street signs still standing. There's a large part part of her that wants to chatter, to fill the silence with words, but she settles for her Dad's old tapes. Letting Jimmy Page and Robert Plant fill the car and filter out of her open window reminds her of simpler times, back when there was traffic to get stuck in and more than ghost towns to drive to. It's Cas that breaks the silence, after the tape has flipped in the deck. 

"Want one?" When De looks over, he's holding a cigarette towards her. She nods and extends a hand to him. When he places the cylinder in her palm, his finger tips are cool and callused. De punches the car lighter in. 

"Thanks," De exhales with a lungful of smoke. "I forgot to grab a pack before we left."

"Fortunately for you, I kept a carton in my personal effects." Cas says, deadpan.

"Yeah, sorry about taking your stuff." De shifts her eyes from the road, "It's just protocol. We've got quite a few mouths to feed, you know. But if you were, y'know, leaving, Bobby'd outfit you up for your travels, for sure."

"It is not of import, the supplies were a peace offering, I wasn't sure my reception would be kind." Cas replies, "I don't have any plans to leave if I am not unwelcome."

Although she hadn't been fishing for an answer, the one she recieves is relieving. "Well, no one's kicking you out." She doesn't know why she wants this stranger to stay, but she definitely does.

"Thank you, Deane." The car fills with silence once again. 

De is itching to ask him where he's from and how he knows her, but she lets music fill the space between them once again. They're driving southwest, away from Roman's crew, away from Lawrence. Barrelling down the turnpike, De expertly avoids dead and rusted vehicles littering the road. She barely slows to take the exit toward Osage City.

Their first stop in town is an auto parts shop, De tries the door to find it locked. 

"Move." Cas's voice is an authoratative rumble from behind her. He's holding a cinderblock.

De moves swiftly out of the way, rifle pointed at the street. She flinches slightly when the glass door shatters, but there's no peal of alarms like in the early days. Whatever power those had is long drained, now. 

"We gotta be quick about this," De says, stepping through the shattered doorframe "We don't know who - or _what_ \- heard that." She hops the counter and begins filling boxes with small parts; spark plugs, filters, valves. "Can you get fluids? We're running real low on steering fluid, and we ought to grab oil, transmission fluid, coolant."

Cas, the angel that he is, complies silently. He fills boxes methodically; where De's are haphazard and unsorted, his are each dedicated to one fluid. De's very glad he is at least making it easier to ignore the trembling in her bones when their eyes meet and the pool of warmth in her stomach at the sound of his gravelly voice; she can pretend her palms are clammy from the long ride holding a steering wheel, not the thought that it would be so easy to reach out and touch. 

Once the light haul is loaded into the backseat, they go back in for batteries and anything else De can think to grab. 

The hardware store in town covers propane and small batteries. Cas collects seeds, mostly edibles, but De's sure she sees a few decorative plants make their way into his bag. They hit the thrift store, packing clothing into suitcases. De pulls pocket paperbacks off the shelves, packing away dozens of Danielle Steels and Stephen Kings. 

The last stop in Osage is the pharmacy. De sends Cas for hygiene products, and heads behind the counter herself. It's practically barren; whoever was working last took all the painkillers with them, but De lucks out - there's still a whole shelf of the pill and plan b back here. Scooping it all into a brown paper bag, she makes her way back to Cas. He's got an armful of shampoos and a basket full of conditioner at his feet. De grabs Jody's red lipstick, and they make their way back to the car.

"We've got one more stop, then we'll head back to camp."

"Very well."


	6. Chapter 6

They leave Osage on a county highway, their next stop is less than ten miles north. Burlingame is nothing too special, but they have a community college. De pulls up in front of the library and cuts the engine. 

"Alright, so I haven't been here since the croats were out and about. I don't know what's waiting for us in there, but Sammy wants books. So I need you to cover me."

Cas nods and they exit the vehicle silently. De takes the lead and is immensly satisfied when Cas falls in perfectly behind her, sword at the ready. The automatic doors  are closed, but not locked. De manages to open them about two inches before the doors stop in their tracks. 

"Fuck." She crouches to look at the lower track, only to find it miserably rusted, the concrete against it depressed and cracked. There was still a small pool from last night's storm. "Son of a bitch." She raises her voice, "Hey think you can move this?"

Cas just raises his eyebrows and moves toward her. She stands and pulls her machete, moving to cover Cas as he sheathes his sword. He shucks his plaid overshirt to reveal a well fitted black tee-shirt. De can see every movement in his shoulder blades as he fits his hands in the gap she created. Her eyes drift from his shoulders downward, greatful for the heat slicking the tee to his skin. She watches the muscles in his back shift as he braces himself. He bends forward slightly as he does, and De can't help but admire the ass on display. The doors move with a screech, and De startles, realizing she was supposed to be watching Cas's back, not  _watching Cas's_ _back._ Fortunately, Cas gets the doors about a foot apart and slides through. De can't be sure if he knows she was watching him, but when he looks through the glass at her, there's a definite smirk on his face. She stows her weapon and shimmies through the gap, joining him in front of the secondary set of sliding doors. Inside, safe from weathering, these doors open much easier, but with a groan nonetheless. The library is lit by west facing windows, golden sunlight iluminating the dusty shelves.

"What are we looking for, exactly?" Cas asks, voice low.

"Anything, everything. Kids in camp ain't exactly getting books from the government." She laughs, "Shit, we don't even have a fucking teacher anymore. They're operating on some new age shit, learning what they want to learn."

"Ah." Cas replies lamely, before holding up a finger. He turns and hops the checkout counter, rifles around below it for a minute before emerging with four large beige and black totes emblazoned with the school mascot. 

"Cas, you're a fucking genius." De accepts the tote bags he hands her with a smile. "You wanna do upstairs or down?"

"Is it wise to split up?"

"If anything was here, it would've heard us coming in. I think we're safe. Plus, we're pretty well armed." De grins, "Unless you're afraid without me."

Cas just rolls his eyes and heads away from the staircase, "Have fun upstairs."

 

Upstairs, it turns out, is only reference and staff offices. She fills one bag and leaves it at the top of the stairs before trying the door to the first set of offices. It's open, but there's very little light inside. There's five desks in the main room, and two closed doors on either end. De figures one of them has to be a supply closet. The first two turn out to be empty offices, decorated with dead people's family photos. The third door is the supply closet, and De loads up on office supplies. The fourth door is the only one that's locked, and De's picking it with when Cas speaks from the door way. 

"I've gotten four full bags in the car already. Are you almost finished?"

"Yeah, just one last room to check, man." 

The lock clicks, but before De can touch the handle, the door flies open. The knob catches her in the gut and knocks her back a step. Next thing she knows, her head is cracking against the tile floor, a snarling croat above her. Before she can do more than hold her attacker at bay, Cas is wrapping the former librarian in a head lock. He works his hands around her head and snaps her neck. He pulls the body away from Deane and drops it uncerimoniously on the floor.

"Deane," Cas's voice is panicked, "Deane are you okay?"

Those blue eyes are swimming inches from her, but she's not sure which set is the real one. She reaches a hand up and finds roughly stubbled cheek. Her vision is still slightly unsteady, but there's only one Cas in front of her. 

"Your eyes are so, so, blue." De mumbles.

"Deane? Can you walk?" Cas hasn't moved her hand from his face, but he's gripping her elbows to help her sit up. "I'll carry your bags down, you wait here." 

He gets her situated on a desk chair and makes towards the door. He's halfway down the hall before he turns around. He heads back into the office and pulls De's gun from its holster. He wraps her palm around the grip.

"I will whistle three times before I enter. Shoot anyone else." De nods. She wants to protest, but her head is pounding, and all she wants is some quiet. Cas shoulders her bag and leaves.

De tries to stay alert, but her eyelids are heavy, and Cas is taking forever. She's drifting out when she hears the front doors screech. She lifts her head fast enough to be dizzy, but manages to stand and make her way to the door frame. She works her way toward the stairs, leaning heavily against the walls. She pauses at the top, eyeing the task before her, but decides she can handle it. She makes it shakily down to the landing, but three steps into the next flight, she missteps, twisting her ankle uncomfortably, and takes the last seven steps in a somersault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've obviously never been to Osage City, or the community college library in Burlingame. (According to Google, however, there IS a community college in Burlingame. So ten points to Hufflepuff.) I based parts of my imaginary library on a community college library I once worked at. Additionally, if anyone's wondering why De has both a motorcycle and the Impala, it's cos I say so.
> 
> And I think it stinks, but AO3 doesn't tell me if anyone is subscribing, but if you are, thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

De has quite the sense of _deja vu_ , coming to with Cas's voice in her ear. He's got a hand wrapped behind her head, and he'd leaned her against himself at some point. For a moment De stills, inhaling his scent deeply. He smells like sweat and cinnamon, and De feels more comfortable (more _at home_ ) in that moment than she has in years. It can't last, of course, and soon enough she's blinking and fighting to sit up on her own. 

"How long was I out?" Cas still has his hand against the back of her head.

"Not long." He moves her hand to the handkerchief he has pressed to her skull, "You should maintain the pressure. Can you stand?"

"I think so. Give me a hand?" With his help, she manages to haul herself to her feet, but when she puts pressure on her right ankle her knee threatens to buckle, pain shooting up her leg. "Not so sure about walking, though." 

Cas fits himself against her right side, wrapping an arm below hers and around her back. De throws her arm across his shoulders and they begin their three legged race to the car. Getting through the narrow doors is a trick, but they manage to make it the car with out contracting tetanus.

Cas helps her into the passenger's seat and runs to get behind the wheel. 

"De, where are your keys?" 

She fishes them out of her jacket pocket, and peers out the windshield. The sky is gray and forboding, lightning striking green in the west. De's seen skies like this before. Cas starts the car and starts out of the college campus. 

"De, I need directions here. I'm flying blind." Cas sounds panicky. 

"Take a right here, and a left at the main road." De pulls the handkerchief from her head. The hair there feels stiff and dry, tacky with old blood. The skin is tender, but there's no warm rush of fresh blood. She pulls her right boot off and rotates her ankle gingerly.

"How is your ankle?" Cas asks once they are headed out of town. 

"Hurts like a bitch, swelling too." 

Their walkie crackles, "Tiger, come in, what's your ten twenty? Over."

"About two miles out of Burlingame. Over."

"Last group we had in saw weather trouble just outside of Topeka. Over."

"We're still an hour out, Beaver, permission to spend a night outside of camp? Over."

"Ten four. Call in when you've got a place to stay. Over and out."

De hunts in the glove box for the first aid kit. She pulls her injured ankle over her knee and begins to wrap it in Ace bandage. 

They're passing into Scranton before Cas speaks, "Deane, where are we sleeping?"

"A friend of mine from before moved out here to her aunt and uncle's farm when everything went bad. They tune in sometimes." De directs Cas to a farm north of town. There are tall barbed wire topped fences surrounding it. They roll up to the gate as hail begins to fall. De reaches over and honks long and slow, once. A figure comes running down the road. 

"Who the hell're you?" There's a shotgun pressed between links in the fence.

De climbs partway out of the window "Lise, it's Deane! We can't make it home in this weather, we were hoping to sleep here."

Lisa unlocks the gate and steps back to allow them to roll through. She locks the gate and climbs into their back seat. She pulls the hood from her head, "Good to see you, De." 

"You too, Lise." Deane smiles, "It's been, what, three years?"

"Nearly. Who's your friend?"

"This is Cas. Cas, this is Lisa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry my cliffhangers aren't more interesting. But whatever. I don't think Cas and Lisa will like each other very much.


	8. Chapter 8

"You can bunk it in the feed barn," Lisa's Aunt Marie is a large woman, and she speaks to them while stirring a gargantuan pot of stew. "Hay's pretty comfortable, and y'all will be fine if a twister kicks up, there's a storm shelter in there." She pulls a fresh loaf of bread from the oven, "Go get yourselves cleaned up for supper."

They head through the rancher to the bathroom. There's a large brass tub, a toilet, and a vanity. De beelines for the tub, hoping to wash her hair. Cas is scrubbing his hands at the sink, the harsh lye soap quickly clearing De's blood from his hands. De primes the pump, and pulls her shirt over her head. Kneeling, she pours the lukewarm water over her hair, scrubbing gingerly at her scalp. Relieved when the water starts to run off clear, she stands and reaches for a towel. It's at once soft and scratchy, stiff from drying outside. De wraps her hair in it and stands. Cas is still in the room. His eyes are dark as they rake up her body to meet her own.

"Well, Cas, not for nothin', but the last time someone looked at me like that...I got laid." De pulls her shirt back on and makes her way out of the room.

Cas follows her after a few moments, and they make their way into the kitchen. Marie's ladling beef stew over thick slices of bread. She hands bowls to the two of them as they enter, and gestures to the dining room, with its large oak table. De and Cas take their seats with the rest of Lisa's family. Lisa's uncle Caleb is regaling the company with often repeated tales, interrupted frequently by his sons. 

"I'm tellin' ya, this fish wasn't no bigger than my forearm - " 

"Dad, it was a _huge_  fish."

"You'd think it was, the way you fell off the boat. Now, Corey's got this fish hooked, and he's pullin' and pullin' til the fish is in the boat and he's over the side."

There's laughter around the table, before Corey pipes up in his own defence, "I was  _seven_ , Dad."

"Meanwhile this fish is floppin' around in our boat, and Shaun starts panicking, screamin' like the little girl his mama was hopin' for-"

"That's just mean, Caleb, makin' fun of a boy's actions at five years old." It's Marie interrupting this time, her face is stern, but she has humor in her voice. "'Sides, I got Lisa, didn't I?"

"Anyway, so I got one boy flounderin' in the water and the other well on his way to tippin' the boat, and we're out in the middle of the lake, right, so I grab one boy by the shirt and haul Corey out by his belt." 

The meal is finished with raucous laughter, the family getting to know their guests and embarrassing each other. Lisa's grandfather is mostly silent, eating his stew with large chunks of fresh bread, but once everyone's cleared their plates, he breaks out the strongest moonshine De's ever had.

The first sip makes De flinch, but she's sure to finish her glass. Castiel, on the other hand, finishes his and goes back for seconds, thirds, fourths. He's throwing them back like shots, and all eyes are on him when his mug hits the table for the fifth time. 

"I think I'm starting to feel something." He announces. 

"Deane, I think you ought to get your friend out to the barn," Marie says quietly, "that boy ain't gonna be too sober much longer."

De nods "Cas, can you help me outside? My ankle hurts like a bitch, and I'm dead tired."

Cas makes it to his feet and helps her up, surprisingly steady on the way out the door. Once outside on the uneven ground, they're holding each other up, stumbling in the dark to the barn.

They collapse together in the hay, not bothering to stake out different spots to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't know anyone that makes/drinks moonshine, you're not supposed to shoot it. It's for sipping, because if you shoot it, you've got one whole hell of a lot of alcohol coming to you. Also, I know I didn't write Ben in here, but tough shit.   
> Also, I can't decide if making it a literal "roll in the hay" is too cheesy. So, I'd welcome your opinions.


	9. Chapter 9

Her breathing is even and loud in the dark of the barn. They're side by side, but the foot between them feels cavernous and cold. Castiel wants, as he has since releasing her hand in Missouri's kitchen, nothing more than to pull her to him, across those inches that might as well be miles. He turns his head and watches her sleeping form in the scant moonlight. She's stretched out on her stomach, face pillowed on her jacket. Her blanket is rucked up around her knees, her left leg bent, bare foot stretching toward him. Her brow is furrowed, lips down turned, and her breath is beginning to speed, hitching with sobs.

"Deane," he whispers, rolling on his side and reaching to smooth a thumb over her forehead. "It's just a dream, De, let it go." He brushes her hair out of her face, and she curls toward him in her sleep. He continues running his hand through her hair until she's breathing peacefully against his collarbone.

He makes to roll away from her, to restore those inches, but there's a hand fisted into his shirt.

"Don't." De speaks so quietly he's not sure if he imagined it, but he complies, settling in next to her. They're centimeters apart, and when she opens her eyes, Cas meets her gaze. He's never seen her vulnerable, he suspects that very few people have. "Thank you." She whispers, her breath ghosting across his chin. 

Castiel just nods, unable to form words with her cold foot pressed between his calves. He doesn't quite know what to do with his hands, and he tries to find a comfortable way to place them anywhere but where they're itching to land. His mind is pulling up every private thought he's had about this girl in the last two days, and he shivers.

"Are you cold?" De asks, pulling her quilt back up, covering her shoulders as well as his. Cas moves his hands under his chin, afraid they will give in to temptation. De finishes fussing with the blankets and meets his eyes again, "You know you really did save my life, after all. I figure that owes you the benefit of the doubt."

Castiel is still trying to come up with a response when his mouth is covered by hers. His hands move to her face and hip ( _finally_ ) as he responds in kind. The kiss is chaste, calm, there's no heat to it, but there is a certain sweetness. He read once, that your first kiss will be the one by which all others are judged, but this is definitely surpassing his first kiss (and his second and his third and). He wonders if he's actually dreaming, if he's been asleep this whole time, but then she's pulling back, "Good night Cas."

 

In the morning, Cas wakes first. His first thought is that Deane looks beautiful in the early sunlight. His second is that if he doesn't move he'll ruin that. He rolls out of her space and stands, his stomach giving another unpleasant lurch. He makes it to the door before bile washes up his esophagus. He manages to keep the mess from the direct path to the door, but he kicks dirt and hay over it anyway before stumbling, bleary eyed, to the pump. It only takes a minute for cold water to flow Cas rinses his mouth and washes his face before wetting his whole head, relishing the cool water on his pounding headache. He pulls his head up when the water peters out, running his hands through his hair to keep it from plastering to his forehead. He heads toward the barn, hoping to curl back up and maybe die. 

"Son of a bitch!" De is leaning heavily against the wall, keeping her weight off of her right foot. "Cas, give me a hand here?"

They make their way slowly back to the house, pausing at the pump so De could wash her face. Once inside, it's obvious that they are the last two awake. The house is full of life, Marie and Lisa in the kitchen preparing breakfast, Corey's chopping firewood in the back yard, Shaun's scrubbing and hanging laundry nearby. Caleb's nowhere to be seen, but Saul is in the rocking chair, quietly spitting into an old can. The old man rises when they enter, making his way into the kitchen as they settle in at the table. Cas cradles his head in his arms, wishing the pounding in his head away, when he's interrupted by a large mug being set down in front of him.

"Drink up." Saul says simply.

"What is this?"

"For the hangover." Saul returns to his chair, rocking and staring out towards the horizon. 

It's terrible, tomato juice and dog piss is Cas's guess. He drinks it down, coughing as he finishes. De laughs.

"What?" he scowls.

"It's just that you had a tougher time with the remedy than you did with the poison"

Cas just puts his head back on the table and ignores her.

They sit in silence after that, each nursing their own woes. The table fills around them as morning chores are finished. Caleb makes his appearance, arms filled with hothouse tomatoes.  Lisa trades him for the basket of biscuits she's bringing to the table.  The clatter of knife meeting wood filters in from the kitchen when Lisa makes her way back out, this time with a cast iron saucepan.  The table is laden with eggs, bacon,  warm bread, potatoes, coffee, and fresh milk.  Marie joins them last, carrying the bowl of tomatoes.  Lisa brings a plate to her grandfather in his rocker, and is thanked with a semi-toothless smile.

"Well, dig in." Marie says, "we ain't much for sayin' grace around here anymore. Not when it seems the whole damn world's already gone to hell."

 Castiel can't find it in himself to disagree with her, his own belief already compromised.  Insted he focuses on De, who's filling his plate for him piling tomatoes and eggs on biscuits, smothering the whole plate in thick white gravy.  She hands him a fork and smiles, before starting in on her own.

 Breakfast passes with the scrape of silverware and an occasional complement to the chef.  Afterwards Cas lends his hands to Lisa, washing as she dries.  There is no friendly banter as they work, there is no talk until they  finish, and Lisa corners him.

"Now, Cas, don't know what's going on with you and De, but l do know that girl doesn't need any more heartbreak,"  Lisa looks at Cas as if it's his fault, "and l will find you if you hurt her too." 

 Lisa may be half his size, but Castiel is still intimidated. "I would never cause Deane intentional harm, but I'm not sure there is even anything going on."

Lisa smirks "Oh, there is totally something going on. But I get you,"  Lisa tweaks her nose and winks, "There's _nothing_ going on"

 She walks away after that, leaving Cas alone with his thoughts. He's still wrapped up in Lisa's hypothesis when they hit the road twenty minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I'd throw you guys some Cas POV, cause why not?  
> Also I got a new computer, so l should be updating super regularly.  
> Love and kisses, Miranda.


	10. Chapter 10

Their drive passes to the noise of De’s cassettes, and her occasional direction to Cas. She’s still surprised at herself for last night, and hoping Castiel was drunk enough to forget. But from the looks he’s been sending her way, he remembers. She doesn’t address it, letting their mutual avoidance stagnate in the air.

When Cas slows to a stop in front of the gate, De pulls a leather strap over her head, a silver key dangles from it. “l can’t walk to the gate, you’re gonna have to unlock it.”

He takes the keys from her and shifts the Impala into park. He leaves her there in the idling car and makes his way quickly to the gate.  He pulls it open and De slides across the bench seat to ease her car inside. Once he's closed the gate behind her, she once again relinquishes control of the wheel. She directs Cas first back to Bobby's where she manages to con Roy and Walt into helping out. They carry the last of the supplies from the car, and De has Cas drive them to Missouri's. Never once does Cas speak, and De can feel the tension growing in the air. She wishes she could walk, could launch herself from the car when it stops, but instead  must wait for Cas to make his way around to help her out. They make their awkward way in to Missouri's kitchen, sending the screen door slamming behind them.

 Missouri comes in from the infirmary, "Can no one in this damn town close a door?"

"My apologies, Ms. Mosley," Cas (finally) speaks, "I will endeavor to close it properly in the future."

 "You be sure to do that. "Missouri turns her attention to Deane, "Now, what on earth did the two of you get up to?"

 Castiel's supporting arm at her waist is suddenly red hot, "I-he-we n-nothing." De manages to stammer out.  "I fell down the stairs, fucked my ankle up, Cas is just helping me walk."  Missouri's eyebrows shoot up almost in tandem with baby blues boring into the side of her head.

 "Well, he can help you walk a few more feet, and we'll get you looked at." Missouri leads them through to what once was a nicely sized rectory  living room, but now looks like a well established and organized field hospital.  "Take a seat and prop that ankle up," Missouri hands Cas pillows to prop De up on the cot. "Now, let's see about that foot." she gingerly removes De's Ace bandage, exposing the swollen and lightly bruised ankle it was protecting. Missouri rolls the joint gently in every direction, testing for tenderness.

"Is it broken?" Cas gives voice to the worst.

It's a few long moments before Missouri answers, a few more stretches and prods. "Well, lucky for you, miss, it's just sprained. But this means you need to stay off of it for a week or two. And that includes that death trap you consider transportion. You might also want to stay somewhere without stairs, unless of course you're a fan of crawling."

"What else do I need for it? You're not gonna dope me up for two weeks, are you?"  She can Cas's eyes back on her, but she ignores him, not  willing to answer the question he wanted to ask.

 "Nothing stronger than asprin, but make sure you keep it wrapped and elevated, until the swelling goes down. You can ice it for about twenty minutes, every couple hours or so. Let me take a look at that head and then go talk to your mother." Missouri gently pushes the hair back from Dean's temple, further exposing the purplish contusion on her forehead. "Is this the only spot?"

 It's Cas that answers her "She hit the back too."

 Missouri has De lean forward against her raised leg and pulls her hair from the loose plait she'd put it in that morning. She reveals a raised bruise and a small, scabbed over cut. After pushing Deane back into a sitting position,  Missouri pulls a small penlight from her pocket, and tests her pupil's contraction times. "Did she lose consciousness or get dizzy?" 

 "Well, after the first hit, she was dizzy and disoriented, I'm fairly certain that's why she fell down the stairs."  Castiel replies, thankfully leaving out the details of Deane's encounter with the Croat. "She was unconscious for maybe two minutes after falling down the stairs, but was  as alert as now. No vomiting or sensitivity to light today or last night, right Deane?"

 It's the first he's addressed her since breakfast, and it catches her off-guard. "Y-yeah, I've been fine since the stairs. Not even memory loss."

 "Seems you've found your lucky charm, here, Deane. This could have been one whole hell of a lot worse. If you were alone..."

_I'd be dead_ , De thinks, her mind filling in where Missouri trailed off. She clears her throat, "We got any crutches? Or is Cas here gonna need to help me around all week?"

"Let me go find Becky, that girl's reorganized my whole damn house, so Lord knows where she hid them."  Missouri leaves them alone with the sleeping patient in bed three.

"It's good you didn't break it." Cas's gravelly timbre cuts through the palpable silence, "I broke mine last winter," He laughs, hollow and humourlessly, "l was useless until spring."

Now it's Castiel avoiding eye contact. There's a story there, De's sure of it. She can't push the issue because Missouri is back, trailed by a mousy blonde. Castiel helps De to her feet, and they adjust the crutches to Deane's height.

 "Now that that's taken care of, Ms.Rosen here says she and her aunt have an extra room, so the two of you can stay with her." Missouri gestures to the blonde, "So if you'll follow Becky, she'll get you settled in." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> l know this ended on a strange note, but I prefer to write shorter chapters, and l have the next few planned out.  
> Also, l currently have two possible plans of action here. I can, a) just write the love/smut story I thought this would be, but I also have b) a large storyline to which that is just the exposition. Honestly it all depends on you guys. Because l don't want to write for no audience, I'll finish out the original plan l had, but if interest is shown I'll continue on.  
> Also this would have been out yesterday, but AO3 kept losing the last paragraph. So after like four rewrites the last paragraph is not as good as it could be, but I'm finished dealing with it


	11. Chapter 11

Cas follows Becky's directions to a squat yellow house near the west fence. He stops the Impala outside to allow De and Becky out. "I'll take the car back to Bobby for you. Where can l get you some clean clothing?"

 "Ask Bobby, he'll tell you where we live. Make sure you tell Sammy where I am. He'll help you pack for me." De turns to follow Becky inside, but looks back before Cas puts the car into gear. "Thank you, Cas, you know, for everything."

She hobbles her way to where Becky is waiting by the door before Cas pulls the car away. The door opens onto a small kitchen, centered around a stone hearth. There's a table pressed into the corner, but the real treasure is the avocado ice box. It's at least sixty years old, a three-doored metal chest that must weigh several hundred pounds. De eases herself into one of the chairs as Becky coaxes the embers back into flame.  The chair is handmade and sturdy, solid beneath her. Deane remembers learning to make chairs like this when she was seven. She remembers complaining to her father that she'd rather learn about something useful, like guns or cars. John had let her vent before replying. _De, should the worst happen, those things will be useful, but having a place to sit goes a long way to making a person feel at home._ He'd righted the chair, _We can work on your bike tomorrow, for now, sit down and enjoy your_ _handiwork._   At the time she'd obliged him, not believing she'd ever understand what he'd meant, not really. Today, she does. From the moment she's seated, she feels the sense of relief she's always associated with arriving home after a long time of being away. The heat of summer had broken with last night's storm, and the fire Becky was building is now a pleasant heat against her front.  She can feel the tension seeping from her muscles, exhaustion dragging at her mind.

 Then Becky began to speak. "So, are you and Cas a _thing_? That would be _so_ cute!"  And once she started, she didn't stop, "Your brother is Sam Winchester, right? _He's_ so cute. Do you know if he's with anyone? Like that Jess girl he came into Missouri's with? Does he like blondes? Do you know-"

 "No offence Beks, but is there any way l can _not_ answer any of those questions and take a bath?"

  
"Oh, of course! You must be exhausted! Here, I'll put water on to boil, if you go down the hall, the room on the right is yours, the one across from it is the bathroom. You can fill the tub a third of the way from the faucet if you're up to it."

De hobbles her way to the small bathroom. It's a similar setup to Lisa's, the center piece a large brass tub with a slow running faucet. De rests against the edge as it fills. Just after it finishes, there's a knock at the door, Becky, she thinks. "Come in."

 The door opens, and it's not Becky. Cas carries an enormous copper pot into the room. "Watch out, it's hot."  She moves so he can pour the scalding water.  He pulls a pack from his back before leaving, "This is yours."

"Oh, thanks." Deane says awkwardly. She has no idea where they stand, she can't tell what he's thinking, and in all honesty she's not sure what she's been thinking lately, either. She has a good thing going with Pam, no strings, no pregnancy scares, great sex; all the things she was looking for.  So why can't she shake this feeling in her chest? Why can't she get those blue eyes out of her head? More importantly, what had possessed her to kiss him? She wishes she could blame it on the alcohol or the head wound, but it had been there since she saw him in Missouri's kitchen. That urge to both pull him as close as he could get and to run, far and fast, away from him. She ponders this until the water is cool and her fingers have pruned. She pulls herself from the tub, drying off briskly with a rough towel. Resting against the edge of the tub, she rifles through the bag Castiel brought her, settling on sweat pants and a ratty Iron Maiden tee. She pulls her wet hair into a bun and makes her way from the bathroom to the room Becky had indicated to be hers.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, okay, put away the pitchforks. I'm back, with an unbelieveably short chapter., but you reap what you sow, right? Anywho, I do have a plan, folks. I'm just a busy girl.

Or apparently, _their_ room. Castiel has already made himself at home on the top bunk, book in hand. The bottom bunk has been made up already, her duffel bag and a spare blanket at the foot of it. In the center, wrapped in grease-stained paper is a deliciously scented package. "Is that?"

 "Ellen sent it, double bacon cheeseburger. She said they were your favorite."

"They are," De sits at the head of her bunk and unwraps her meal, savoring the first bite. It's been three months since Ellen made these last, and she usually only gets a double on her birthday, it almost makes up for being on bed rest for two whole weeks. "You talked to Ellen? What did you tell her? About who you are, why you're here?"

 "No more than was necessary." Cas's rough grumble precedes his body vaulting to the floor. He shuffles over to his bags piled in the corner and returns with a folded letter.  "She asked me to bring you this."

"Did you read it?" De struggles to keep the accusation out of her voice.

"It was none of my business," Castiel replies, as though he'd expected the implication, "I'd just planned to let you eat before giving it to you."

 De doesn't reply, grateful Cas can't see the heat in her face while he's climbing his ladder. She swings her bad leg onto the bed and folds the other beneath it, contemplating the sheet of paper in front of her. She finishs her burger as she reads.

'De,

_Rest up, girl, and don't you think for a minute we'll let you get away with disobeying Missouri's orders.  
_

_This Castiel is interesting, and you're goddamn lucky he tagged along. But you know we gotta talk to him  
_

_it's no matter how much he brought in, if he wants in like he says he does, the council has to approve him.  
_

_We'll come by after lunch is served tomorrow and bring food, so don't consider trying to make something.  
_

_Ellen'  
_

It's definitely not as bad as it could be, but De can't be sure how much Cas will tell them, given the chance. "They're coming. Here. Tomorrow."

"Ellen?"

"The council. So, Ma, Ellen, Bobby, Jody, Rufus, Missouri, and Frank. They'll be here after lunch tomorrow. To talk to you." De's voice has taken on a hollow quality at the realization that the council could rule against Castiel. They could take him away from her. The dread that creeps down her spine at the thought is unsettlng, to say the least. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep. We'll get ready for them in the morning." De settles in, rolling to face the wall, letting herself calm in the shadows cast by the single camping lantern Castiel was reading by. She falls asleep to the sound of pages turning, the creak of Cas adjusting his position on the top bunk. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas's back story. Council meeting to come. I know it's been forever but better late than never, right?

Castiel rises with the dawn. Out of habit, he makes his bed with military precision; as his body run on auto pilot, he allows his mind to drift to the blonde still lightly snoring in her bunk. He knows she's nervous about him meeting this council but she has no need to be. If he tells them why he's here, that he's been sent to protect them, it will all be fine. _Honesty is the best policy_ , as his mother would say. "So all I have to do is tell the truth," Castiel says this last part out loud, almost accidentally.

His voice provokes a groan from the occupied bunk, pulling his eyes towards its occupant. He can't see De's face, the way she's laying, but he can just about see the rest of her; the line of her body is exposed, the way her hair spills across the pillow, the way her hands bunch her comforter to her front, the way her good leg draws up to reveal the pale sole of her foot. And, again, he yearns to touch, to feel every inch of her, to feel her beneath him and above him and around him, in any possible way. He knows that he can't though, and that to do so would further alienate him from her.

So he leaves her to sleep, and makes his way out of their shared room. In the kitchen, he finds the fire already burning, a note from Becky and a brown paper bag.

_'HEY GUYS!_

_I had to be at Missouri's very early this morning,_

_she was very insistent, it was almost rude,_

_especially after I cleaned up the mess the medical stuff_

_had made of her house. But I managed to bring you some_

_breakfast from mess._

_XOXO_

_Becky_

Cas rolls his eyes at her obvious enthusiasm, but is delighted to find tupperware full of eggs and hashed potatoes. It hasn't even cooled yet, Becky must have left recently. He's just prepared himself a plate when the telltale clack of crutches precedes De's arrival.

"You seem to be getting around well." Cas says in lieu of a greeting.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly my first time on crutches. In case you didn't notice l'm pretty familiar with Missouri patching me up. You should have seen me when I broke my leg last year. Worst two months of my life." She collapses into the open chair, pulling the tupperware and spare fork towards her. "Now, what you need to know about the council. So, you already know Bobby, Ellen and Missouri, they won't be the hard part. Ma'll take you in, she's a sucker for strays, plus the whole saving my life thing'll soften her up. Who we really gotta worry about is Frank and Jody. Rufus tends to side with Bobby, but Jody and him have history and he can be a wild card. Is there any ketchup in that relic?" 

De's abrupt shift in topic gives Castiel a start, but he pulls himself from the table to check. There isn't any. But there is a mason jar labeled 'tomato sauce.' He brings it back with him. "This is the best I could find."

"It works." She pours a lake of red into the tupperware. "When they get here, the first thing you're gonna have to do is tell them how many Croats you've killed, and how many people, bled or not." She chews for a minute, "You best tell me now, I know you're not the runnin' type, so at least one of the numbers isn't gonna be small." 

"Croats, a couple hundred. Before the disease, I killed people, but only in the line of duty. I have since been called on to dispatch those who were infected, but not yet vectors. As well as a few domestic terrorists within the uninfected."

"How many after the outbreak?"

"About a dozen in total."

"Military or law enforcement?"

"Military, Marines, I was a CSO."

"That's good, Bobby and Rufus are vets, and Jody used to be our Sheriff. The special ops thing will create a problem with Frank though, and we need the vote to be unanimous. So maybe leave that out if you can. What did you do immediately after the break out?"

"I was in charge of securing Denver. My older brother worked for the CDC, and he created the virus. He called in the threat to my oldest brother at homeland security  hours after he released it in JFK. We managed to close Denver airspace, but the virus still got in. We had to destroy the airport."

"So Denver is Croat free?"

"Denver, D.C., Austin, and Portland, Maine. Those are all the government sanctioned safe zones. Though I'm sure there are dozens of sanctuaries like this one."

"Is there communication?" 

"Not much to speak of. Denver and D.C. have full electric. Austin is relying on generators and a few solar powered personal homes; it's spotty and only in certain areas, but Austin was a bit of a struggle to take back, and any progress is good progress. Portland practically took itself back, they're only government sanctioned because of the President's safe house but the locals secured it before the military's arrival."

"Are there supply lines? Medical aid?"

"There isn't anything to spare. D.C. has repurposed all available land for farming. In Denver we're rooftop gardening. And even with that, food is still sparse."Cas replaces the "ketchup" and takes De's empty tupperware and his plate to the sink to wash. She seems to have run out of questions for the time being, but  he knew there would be more to come.


	14. Chapter 14

De's mind was racing with further questions, ones that were itching to get out, but she didn't want to interrogate him, the council would get all of those answers out of him. She ventures to shallower waters, "So how old are you anyway? You don't seem old enough to take charge of a whole city. even if you are special ops."

"I'm twenty seven, and ordinarily you'd be right, but my entire family is in the military or government intelligence and law enforcement, so I was given the best education available; New York military academy for high school, West Point for college. I was an officer at twenty two, trained for high risk combat and tactical situations. I was set to deploy two months after the out break, but I was on leave and staying with my mom in Longmont. If I had been in Georgia, I'd have been sent to Atlanta. As it is, the CDC headquarters there is secure, with employees bunking in the facility, but Denver is handling most of the clinical work at this point."

"So if you have such a big job, what are you doing here, now?" 

"I'm not alone in running the city, I'm just the military coordinator. There are several others fit to assume my command in my absence. As for what I'm doing here, that story starts 17 years ago. You might remember spending some time in the hospital with Sam when you were seven? The two of you were part of a sample grouping of children for experimental vaccination, chosen in secret by a man working for my brother. In most cases the children were rendered immune to the croatoan virus."

"Immune? As in 'can't get infected'?" 

"Sam is more likely to be resistant to the virus, having the vaccine introduced to his immune system at a much younger age, but theoretically, yes, you are immune. Although the two of you are believed to be the only living recipients of the vaccine. We believe the others were disposed of by a man called Azazel. Your fortress here may have been what kept you safe."

"The only living recipients? What, are you here to bring us back so we can be tested on and probed?" De's amazed at Castiel's arrogance, angry at the possibility of being experimented on.

"At most all I would need from you are a few blood samples."

"So, what? Saving me, helping me on my run, Lisa's? That was all just to gain my trust, so you could get my blood?" De stands, forgetting her crutches in her anger. She feels her ankle crumble beneath her, but is stopped from hitting the cold slate floor by warm arms on her back.

"Nothing I have done since meeting you has been a part of my assignment." Cas's breath is warm on her neck, the gravel of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. "My assignment was to bring the supplies in exchange for the samples, then leave. Simple." He's helped her into the chair at this point and settles back into his own, "But things have been anything but simple since I met you, Deane. Everything I did, it was because I wanted to know you better. You fascinate me." De's dumbstruck, so Castiel continues, "I listened to you on the radio on the way here, you livened up my early morning drives. Then I saw you in Missouri's and I knew that I had to get to know you, not just the you I heard on the radio." Cas's eyes leave hers, and trail down to his hands.

"Well - " Deane is cut off by the slam of a door. An older woman, maybe mid forties, enters the kitchen, a large paper bag in arm. 

"You must be Deane and Castiel. Now, Deane, I know your mother, but I don't think we've ever had occasion to meet," the bag goes on the table, and she's holding out a hand to shake, "Isadora Rosen, but you can call me Dori. We just finished preparing lunch, your mom asked me to bring you guys some and let you know they'll be here within the hour."  

                                                                                                        ---------------------------------

Dori took her leave after the council filed in. Fitting the seven of them in the kitchen with De and Cas was no small feat, but they managed. Bobby's wheelchair cuts off all access in or out of the kitchen. Cas moves to the center of the room, back to the hearth, awaiting interrogation. After introductions, Jody leads the charge, calling on years of experience in law enforcement. Cas replies with many of the same answers he'd given De, and a few he hadn't, like the names and ages of his brothers, and where his information is coming from. By the time Jody's finished with him, Ellen's gotta get to the Roadhouse, and the vote is rushed and unanimous. Cas can stay. De's relief is palpable in the air as, one by one, the council takes its leave.


	15. Chapter 15

After the meeting De doesn't say much, she retreats into the bedroom, and any attempt Cas makes to coax conversation from her is ill-humored. Eventually he gives up even staying in the house; Deane had begun shushing him if he so much as dared to clear his throat or turn the page.  After a little wandering, he finds himself outside of Missouri's.  

As he approaches the door Pamela comes storming out in a whirlwind of leather fringe and profanity, "High pitched little bitch, how the fuck am I supposed to focus with her chirruping in my ear about - " In her agitated state she nearly bumps into Cas. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I felt unwelcome in Deane's presence. I was simply exploring the place. I didn't intend to upset you"

"You and De aren't getting along?"

"We seem have a contentious relationship at the moment."

Pam's face splits into a grin, "Not sure De has any relationships that aren't, unless you count Sammy, of course."

"You speak as though you have experience."

"Unfortunately. De and I are involved when she wants to be."

"How do you ascertain when she wants to be?"

"She shows up. All the ascertaining comes from her, feathers."

"Excuse me?" Cas asks, sure he misheard her.

"Your name, Castiel, surely you know its origins."

"It was the name of a lesser angel, a soldier."

"Angels have wings, wings have feathers, genius."

"I see. I'm not used to people knowing what my name means."

"I was a bit of an occultist in my last life. Wiccan, Pagan, Judeo-Christian, I studied it all. Got real into angels and demons for a while. Of course that was before the actual apocalypse was upon us."

"I don't think this is the end, the human race is a surviving lot."

"You're more hopeful than I am then, feathers."

                                                     -------------------------------------

Alone in the house, De can't get her mind to turn off. When Cas had walked out, she'd been relieved, thinking that without him there she would be able to focus on something else. But instead of lessening with his absence, it's as if he'd walked, not through the door to the outside, but the door to her mind. Every train of thought she pursued led back to one place. Cas. Even when she tried to distract herself with thoughts of Pam, her long black hair turns short in De's fantasy, her eyes shift from brown to blue, her body changes from soft curves to hard planes. Eventually she just gives in to it, remembering the warmth that had rushed through her abdomen when she saw him, pooled at the base of her spine when she kissed him. The emotion that rushes through her as she fantasizes is overwhelming. Afterwards, she's more confused than before, and all she knows for certain is that she's royally screwed.


	16. Chapter 16

While Deane is confined to bed rest, Castiel is put to work. He spends his first day cataloging inventory with Bobby; as the week passes and the pile of things to be sorted grows smaller, he is increasingly sent on errands. Given only a bare set of directions he's sent off to the far reaches of the fences. He delivers seeds to the farmers in the north fields, and spends half his day tilling the recently razed cornfields; taking live rounds and crossbow bolts to the guard towers in the east and west; helping to haul in the deer from outside the fence; Roy and Walt lend him their wagon in exchange for the transport of venison to the butcher, where he learns more than he'd like about how the meat on his lunch trays gets there; he spends time in the south, burying putrefying latrine trenches and replacing them with fresh dug ones. He spends two weeks like this, showing up to Bobby's in the morning only to be sent away before lunch. He recognizes the test for what it is, and dutifully fills whatever shoes are thrust at him, and returns to the oppressive silence and incessant chatter of Becky's home. Dori is hardly ever there, rising before the dawn to start preparing breakfast, asleep by eight. Becky spends twelve hours a day with Missouri, and Cas isn't sure how the old woman still has any patience. Becky walks in the door talking and doesn't stop until she's asleep. In stark contrast to their host's loquacity, Deane is nearly mute. She speaks only when necessary to Cas and not at all to Becky; Sam visits when he can, and Deane speaks with him at length in private, keeping up to date with the happenings around town. (Unbeknownst to Cas much of their conversation is usually about his travels within the fences.)

Two weeks to the day, and De is awake even before Dori. She's walking with a slight limp, but otherwise in perfect health. She's drinking coffee at the table when Cas comes out of the room, bleary and exhausted. He checks the pot by the hearth, reassured when he hears the slosh of warm coffee. He makes himself a cup and savors the moment of peace, dreading whatever manual labor he'll be assigned by early afternoon. He understands that they're trying to see if he'll give up and leave, go back to his cushy life in Denver, and if he was going to, now would be the time. He can feel the throb in every muscle, but he's determined. He'll show them he can handle it at home, so that they'll allow him to join the ranks of the hunters. So he can work side by side with De, making runs, covering her back, keeping her safe. Because regardless of whatever the higher-ups he answers ( _answered_ ) to want with her; whatever salvation or damnation they think they'll find coursing through her and Sam's veins; Cas knows she's so much more than any series of tests will ever show her to be. She's fierce, a warrior, all contradictory sharp edges and soft curves, she's a puzzle, an enigma, and Cas plans to spend every day at her side wearing his way down to the core of her.

"Sam says Bobby's been runnin' you ragged."

Cas slips out of introspection, "Nothing I can't handle, I assure you."

"Well you were Spec Ops, I doubt there's much that old man could throw at you that you couldn't handle."

There's a playfulness to her speech, and Castiel desperately wants to be in on the joke. "I don't know, he might be able to run me over."

Deane laughs at that, her voice filling the kitchen reminds Cas of summer sunshine, warm against his skin; enticing him to shed everything and recline, to just soak it in as though it had been raining for months. 

"So what d'you think you wanna do, I mean, while you're here? Surely you've seen what all gets done around here."

"I want to be a hunter."

"Like Roy and Walt? Killin' Bambi didn't seem like it would be your thing."

Cas's brow knits together in consternation, "No, it wasn't. I meant in the way you are, a hunter of things left behind. Of the old world."

"Well, policy is that you need to have a partner for that."

"I noticed you don't seem to follow that rule."

"Rules are made to be broken. 'Sides, I take people with me for the big hauls."

"I was hoping I could talk you into allowing me to become your partner. Permanently."


	17. Chapter 17

De is taken aback, not fully expecting the answer, but there's a small voice in the back of her head rejoicing. ( _He's staying!_ ) She swallows back the joy, "I would have to think about it, Cas. That's a mighty big decision to make this early in the morning."

She doesn't miss the shadow of disappointment that flashes across his face. She stands, checking a watch that doesn't exist, and glances out the window at the grey of the pre-dawn sky. "Jo's waiting for me now, I have to go up to the station. Don't wanna be late for my first show back."

She beats a hasty retreat, door slamming behind her, leaving Cas alone clutching his clay mug.

Trudging along the muddy road to the station, De _really_ misses her bike. The road is slightly pitted from the rain, a combination of drying mud and hard pack threatening to send her falling with a misplaced step. Cas's suggestion lingers in her mind, and she can't think of a good reason to turn him down. 'I work alone' sounds horribly cliché, and she likes the thought of Cas having her back. Despite the short time they've known each other, she feels inclined to trust him. Neither of them have brought up the kiss, and De hopes (dreads) that Cas has written it off as a dream. She doesn't want to think about the fact that he saw her cry, how good it felt to have him hold her, or the disappointment at waking to find herself alone. She realizes that she and Cas will probably have to move out of Becky's spare room, her back to the station, and he'll probably be given a spot and platform to pitch his tent in the south, with the rest of the new comers finding their permanent living space. Some relocate, building houses with their own two hands, and the help of the various contractors and construction workers the camp has accrued over the years; some of them never do, trading in tents for RVs and travel trailers. De thinks Cas is the type, if he's really staying, to build something for himself, make his mark permanent,  not find something pre-made and mobile. She can picture him now, shirtless and sweating, hammering nails or stacking logs. The way he'd make the physical labor seem simple; the personal touches he'd scour abandoned properties for, sleeping on the floor until he had time to get a proper mattress. (Oh, how De would love to help him with that search and eventual christening.) She shakes her head as though her mind were an etch-a-sketch and the images it conjured up would just disappear. (She wonders what he sounds like; if he talks in that low growl or if in those intimate moments he's reduced to hoarse whispers and soft sighs.) If only. In a perfect world, she would be able to shut it off. To decide Cas isn't who she wants, after all. That it was just blue eyes and toned muscles pulling at her animal instincts. But spending two weeks sharing a room had opened her eyes to less superficial attraction; she couldn't blame it on the physical much longer.

"First day back, you ready?" Jo asks with a grin. De has reached her destination, and can't remember a time she was happier to see Jo, grateful for the distraction of their reunion.

"Totally. I don't think you realize exactly how much I wanted out of that house."

"At least you had some decent eye-candy," Jo waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

 Jo waits until almost everyone in camp is awake to embarrass her, "As many of you know, I've been manning the morning shift alone for the past few weeks, but no more, our beloved De is back, no worse for the wear, and only marginally less attractive." Jo winks in response to Deane's eye roll and groan. "I know I've missed her. And how better to celebrate our girl's return than with a little Zeppelin?"  Jo hits a button and Living Lovin' Maid blasts over the airwaves.

By midmorning, they're fielding calls from refugees and song requests from a few supply caravans passing through. By time Rufus and Benny show up, Jo has their refugees settled into safe houses; teams all set to meet, test, and lead them home.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Mary is laying in wait, catching her daughter just outside of the kitchen, "You sure you're ready to go back out there, De?" 

"Ma, I'll be careful. Missouri even said I can ride my bike again."

"Your bike? You're going out alone?"

"Well, yeah."

"Deane, if you'd've gone alone last time, you wouldn't have come back."

"I'm not even going on a run, Ma. I just need to get out of here. I won't even stop."

"Young lady, you are not to leave alone — capisce?"

De sighs, arguing with Mary was often futile, "Capisce."

"Now let's get you some lunch, huh? You can take some over to your brother, he hasn't eaten yet."

De carries the tray of sandwiches and fruit to Sam's usual table, takes her place beside Jess, before looking up to see that it's not Kevin Tran on the other side of the chess board, it's Cas. He's got this wrinkle between his eyebrows as he contemplates his next move, before he captures a knight one move away from checking him.

"It's good to see you, De," Jess says, "You've been sorely missed."

"Thanks, Jess. It's good to see you, too." De picks through the tray, "So how long has Cas been part of the chess club?"

"Oh, Castiel has been a godsend, he can play much better than Sam or Kevin," Jess grins, "the games are faster now."

De laughs, and passes her brother his sandwich. She has to say his name three times before he looks up. (Cas is much quicker to look in her direction.) She glances toward the kitchen nervously, "I'm going to take mine to go, I'll catch up with you guys later." She can feel Cas's eyes on her as she walks away, but she forces herself not to glance back.

 

"You've been out of commission for two weeks, no one will fault you another day or two." Bobby protests when she shows up.

"Missouri declared me fit, Bobby, l can handle it." She heads past him, deeper into the storeroom, picking the walkie out of his hand. "Besides, we both know I'm going stir crazy inside this fence. l need to go for a drive, clear my head."

Bobby grumbles and wheels after her. "Your mother says—"

"I know what Ma thinks."

"You should listen to her, De. Not one other person is allowed out alone." Bobby sighs, "Besides, I got people who need a partner asking about you."

"I know who's been asking, Bobby." De slams the clip into her gun a little harder than necessary. "I'm not planning on stopping. Just driving."

"Take someone, Deane. It doesn't have to be—" He's cut off by the door opening. As if by divine intervention, Castiel chose this moment to walk in with Bobby's lunch.

"Am I interrupting?"

"I was just saying that De's not going out alone today." Bobby looks from De to Cas, "You know how to drive a bike?"

"I can operate a motorcycle, yes."

"Then it's settled. De, you can still take your bike, Cas here'll just follow you. Deal?"

De acquiesces, because at least this way they won't be closed in a car together. As De loads her saddlebags, Bobby rattles off the most current intel; Gordon's headed away, but Dick's back, and no one's seen Crowley in weeks. She tosses Cas a helmet. He catches it one handed with barely a glance. (Which might just be the hottest thing De's seen this month.) He's already got his sword sheathed on his back, over a sturdy canvas jacket. Four throwing knives accompany the holster on his belt. He looks thoroughly deadly; De can picture him storming the very gates of hell and leaving unscathed.

She heads into the garage, pointedly ignoring the stir in her stomach as she hears him fall in behind her. Her baby is waiting for her, shiny and perfect. She gestures to the three tarp covered bikes, "Take your pick."

Cas chooses quickly, and they maneuver themselves out of the garage. De heads for the main gate with Cas hot on her tail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I know it's not super long and is mostly a filler, but I needed it for the next chapter. Which, with any luck will be out soon.


	19. Chapter 19

Once they're out in the open, Castiel keeps some distance between them. She speeds ahead of him, weaving around well known obstacles. Nothing feels more right to De than being on the road. She can remember the first time she'd ever been on a bike, her dad had strapped the helmet on nice and tight, and showed her how to climb up behind him. How to hold on to his belt loops, how to lean with the turns. She remembers the feeling of hot leather and the smell of the exhaust. She can still hear her dad's voice, "Hold on tight, now Deane, don't you let go." Still feel the rumble of his first Harley, the exhilaration of that first ride. She's constantly chasing that feeling, taking her bike to speeds that would typically be infeasible without the open road.

He strays from her mirror occasionally, disappearing around curves or behind hills. It's on one of these occasions she finds herself face to face with Crowley. His goons fire shots from either side of the road, bullets pinging off the pavement, boxing her in. Once she's stopped, the devil himself walks out of the forest cover.

"Hello, darling."

De has to hold herself back from drawing on him, "What do you want, Crowley?"

"Now, now, we used to be such good friends." And they had been, when he was a senior and she was a freshman. Back when high school was a thing, when the worst thing Crowley did was sell a little weed or ecstasy, far before he had begun moving the heavy stuff. Far before the apocalypse.

"You didn't waste bullets to catch up on old times, what do you need?"

It's at this moment that Cas creeps around the turn. He'd been more cautious than she, having never ridden these roads. He had been lingering about two miles behind her for the last half hour, and regretted it when he heard gunshots — from multiple weapons. He sped up, using the gunfire to hide the sound of his bike, and when it petered off, he dismounted and took the remaining four hundred feet at a sprint. He couldn't let something happen to her. Weapon at the ready, he makes his way around the last bend, unsure of what might await him.

"Ah, who's your new pet, De?"

"Crowley, Cas; Cas, scum of the earth. There, you've been introduced."

"Have him put his gun away," Crowley grins widely as three more goons come out of the tree line, "wouldn't want my boys to get worried and fill his pretty little head with lead."

De nods to Cas and he holsters his pistol, "Now yours, after all we're all friends here, right Fergus?"

Crowley makes some sort of signal to both sides, and slowly barrels are pointed at the ground or the sky, but away from De and Cas. "Now, I have a deal for you, Deane."

"I figured as much. What do you want, food? I've got a saddlebag full for safe passage."

"Nothing so trivial. I have a friend, and she's fallen rather ill she needs medical care."

"It's not Croatoan, is it?"

"You know I'd've put her out of her misery. You don't trouble a good woman with bad news."

"I haven't known you hang out with many good women."

"Present company excluded, of course." Crowley says with a wink.

"I'll call it in, best I can offer. Camp says no, nothing I can do."

Castiel watches the whole exchange silently, eyes searching for any sign of an attack. De steps back to call it in.

"This is Tiger, do you read me? Over."

"You have Beaver, over."

"Found Crowley, he's requesting med assist for one of his, over."

"He want you to bring 'em back here? Over."

"Roger that. Says he's got a girl been sick for weeks. Over"

"I'll run it by the Eagle. Over."

De turns back to find Cas and Crowley in a staring match. "I'll hear back on it in a few."

The walkie crackles in her hand, "Tiger, this is Eagle, what's your 20? Over."

"Bout a mile north of the old Freemont farm. Over."

"I'm sending Dracula for the girl. Over and out."

Crowley raises his eyebrows, "Mama Winchester's still running things I see."

"They'll be here soon, how about you save the small talk."

"Fine. I was only trying to foster pleasant conversation, De. We used to have so much fun together."

"You used to insult drunk girls and make me fight them."

"Like I said: fun. Besides, it was mutually beneficial. I _always_ held up my end of the bargain."

"Why don't you just go get your girl, Crowley," De sighs, "get all of us back on the road as soon as possible."

With a hand gesture, three more of Crowley's men walk from the forest, bearing a litter. There's rapid movement inside and the men stop as a head comes whipping over the top, just a curtain of black hair and vomit. When she's finished, the bearers sidestep the bile and carry her the rest of the way. There's tense silence for a few minutes before the sound of the approaching van has Crowley's men pointing rifles in its direction.

" _Put the fucking guns down, YOU IMBECILES!_ " Crowley's red in the face when he turns back to De and shrugs, "Amateurs."

Benny comes around the turn in the Ambulance — it's really just a plain white van but they had painted a big red cross on the hood. As it comes to a stop, the rear doors open, and Pam jumps out, pulling a stretcher behind her. (The stretcher _is_ genuine; they had found it in the middle of the road, thirty feet from a three car pileup. Not an emergency vehicle in sight.) De moves to flank Pamela as she gets closer to Crowley, and sees Cas mirroring her on the left. They are far outnumbered, but as Benny assists Pam getting the girl onto the stretcher, De feels confident that she and Cas could defend them. Crowley wouldn't kill them, but rob them blind, certainly. Nor would he feel any guilt about using his girl's sickness as a distraction. For she was definitely sick — half conscious and feverish, De was surprised she had had the wherewithal to expel anything. Crowley and his men slip away as they load the girl into their van.

"Where should we return her?" De calls to their retreating backs.

"Bring her up here, give her a flare or something." He smirks, "Get creative."

 

Before Benny climbs back into the driver's seat, he pulls a strip of fabric from his pocket, "Here, Pamela, blindfold her. And make sure you pat her down, I'm not deliverin' nobody to Missouri if they's packin'. 'Specially if she ain't one of ours."

Pam's busy securing the stretcher, but she looks up to throw him a wink, "Aye, aye, captain. You know I love it when you're bossy."

He just waves a hand at her, and climbs up front. "Lemme know when we're good to go." He hand cranks the window open, "Hey, Cas, you need a ride back to your bike?"

"I'll take him." The words are out of her mouth before she even realizes she's thought them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a month, and I've published all kinds of other things, but I didn't forget about this. I did lose all my notes on it when my last surface shit the bed. But I'm steadily fixing that. And trying to get this finished.

**Author's Note:**

> I always encourage feedback.


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